Diary – Chapter V – The "Special"

I knew that I must spare her nothing. If Joan’s demon was to be excised we had to go through with it all. The physical pain of course, but the mental pressure too.

So I didn’t just say, “Right, my girl, up to the bedroom with you.” The threat must hang over her for most of the day.

We were having a lazy day. A little reading, listening to music, perhaps later lovemaking was on Joan’s agenda. Mine was arranged. At noon I asked Joan into the study. We had refitted the small sitting room downstairs into a study, where we did school work, wrote letters and dealt with accounts. We each had our own desk and comfortable chair. I sat down and motioned Joan to stand in front of me. “I haven’t forgotten,” I said. “Your crime, when you were much younger, is still to be punished.”

Puzzled at first, no doubt surprised she was being made to stand submissively in front of me, she soon realised something unusual was happening. I don’t know the moment she grasped it was to be the ‘Special’ but (was it my imagination?) she gradually assumed the attitude of a penitent schoolgirl.

“Yes, that occasion when you allowed your friend to take all the blame for your misdeeds, and when she suffered a ‘Special’ from your Headmistress. And you escaped scot-free. We agreed you must be punished for it. And no ordinary punishment. It has to be a ‘Special’. I require you to report to me in the study at nine o’clock tonight. You will be dressed appropriately. You will have bathed, dressed correctly in sports clothes, and pay especial attention to your hair. Gather your hair at each side, using two ribbons. Nice neat bows, if you please. If you are unsatisfactorily turned out in any way, then you will be awarded two additional strokes. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” was all she said.

Nine hours!

An awful long time to hang around waiting. It was bad enough for me, but for Joan it must have been the longest and most awful nine hours of her life. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she had something to keep us busy. I tried to read, but nothing interested me. I strolled round the garden, but my thoughts were on the study and what was to happen there. I thought about going for a drive, but I wouldn’t have been safe.

Suddenly it came to me. Horror! Joan had been so careful to prepare for this day. That drawer-full of clothes. She had been prepared for weeks, while I had done nothing. The one thing I had to do was make a tawse or something similar. I’d done absolutely nothing. Joan had gone out, so I had the chance to find something. I rushed into the workshop, where I had done work with leather straps and I had kept the offcuts from belts which I had converted into restraints. They were all too short, so I rushed out to buy a new leather belt.

The heaviest I could find in town was rather under two inches wide, and fairly thick for a man’s belt. It would barely fit through the loops in my trousers. When I got it home I took a few practice swings. It was far too long, and difficult to hold. I worried about accuracy; I would have to be very precise. I considered various methods of creating a stable handle, and hit on a method that seemed quick and effective.

First I cut off the buckle. I folded over the last four inches at that end, and folded twice more so as to form a thick pad which fitted well into my hand. I found some twine which I wrapped round and round the handle. Simple as that! Now I had a tawse, about twenty one inches long, with a good handle. When I slashed it against a cushion it was easy to control. I practised until I was confident of my accuracy. The strap I put into the centre drawer of my desk.

I was ready for the evening.

At nine that evening I had been waiting for ages in the study. Joan had been prowling about the house, but had kept away from me. Promptly on the hour there was a knock at the study door.

“Come in!” I called.

I had never seen Joan dressed as a schoolgirl before. There is something ravishing about a mature woman pretending to be a girl. It was the two hair ribbons tied in bows, bunching the hair out sideways into two ponytails, that struck me most forcibly. She came and stood demurely in front of my desk. She was pale, and I thought very frightened. I wasn’t happy, either, but I knew I had to get on with it.

I started by inspecting her. Walking round her, looking closely at every detail of clothing and body. “Hold your hands out!” I instructed. She looked at me sharply, but complied. I inspected her hands for cleanliness, and her nails which were trimmed but unpainted.

I stood close behind her and whispered, “Its time for your punishment, my dear. Take off your clothes; I want you naked above the waist.” She removed the vest taking care not to disturb her hair and then the bra came away, breasts swinging heavily on release. For a moment punishment was forgotten as I watched her standing meekly in only sports shorts, low socks and gym shoes. Not forgetting the hair ribbons, of course.

“Now go over to my desk. You will find a strap in the centre drawer. Fetch it to me, please.” Joan walked slowly round the desk and found the strap. As she walked towards me I noticed the breasts quivering at each step, and reminded me of what I must do to them shortly.

Taking the strap from her, I said, “You are here for a ‘Special’, my dear. This is a punishment you earned many years ago. When you failed to own up and caused another girl to be punished in your place. For the original punishment you will receive six strokes, but since it is a ‘Special’ there will be two additional strokes. You will receive them on alternate hands, starting with your left.” I paused, horrified at what I was about to do. “Hold up your left hand, now, please!”

Joan raised it in front of her, palm facing forward, fingers pointing to the ceiling. I held her wrist and guided the hand until it was exactly in front of her left breast. Stepping back I adjusted the strap in my hand. The handle felt firm and positive and when I drew back my arm I knew I could strike accurately. To waste time would have been unnecessary torture, so I struck quickly and with some force. Half measures were no good; I had to kill this demon once and for all.

Joan took it on the hand. There was no doubt she was hurt, and she quickly pulled it down and clasped both hands together. Almost at once she recovered her poise and raised the other hand. I moved it until I was sure it was in exactly the right place, and struck again. This and the next on her left she took bravely, but this time clamping a hand under her armpit. I had to urge her to hold the hand up for the second on her right.

She cried out when the strap lashed into the hand, and held her face low so that I couldn’t see her eyes. I knew then she would be unable to take any more on her hands.

When she eventually was coaxed to take the hand from under her armpit, I had to hold her left wrist to position the hand in front of her breast. The hand was trembling. I aimed hard and true and Joan dropped her hand as the strap was in motion. Her scream wrenched at my heart, but I was determined to lose no time. I picked up her right hand, and as soon as I could I unleashed another savage blow which I knew would ravage her breast.

Joan turned her face to me. Tears streamed down her cheeks. I had never loved her so much. My heart twisted and churned. I tore my eyes from her face and reached out for her left wrist. I positioned the hand, knowing it would be no protection for her breast. I was desperate to get it over with, and lashed out as soon as she was steady. The strap landed fairly over her nipple but the most damage was done by the far end which curled round the breast and tried to dig into the outside. One more desperate stroke to go!

I worried about the way the strap would curl round her right breast. Striking from the outside, there was a risk the end would overlap the left breast, which had already had enough damage. So I took a tiny step backwards and struck out. The strap curled into the cleft but landed short of the left breast. I threw the strap on the floor and put my arms around her. I pulled her to me, but not hard, realising I would be crushing her bruised breasts to me. She was sobbing and it broke my heart.

I picked her up in my arms and carried her upstairs where I laid her carefully on the bed. I took off her shoes and socks, and eased the sports shorts off too. I fetched the cold cream and knelt astride her body, touching a generous helping onto one breast. I spread it as gently as I could, hardly pressing enough to disturb the cream. Joan covered my hand with hers, pressing into her breast and we moved our hands steadily over the damaged area. When she was satisfied for the moment she pulled my hand over to the other breast and we continued to spread the cream and rub it gently in.

I looked into her face. It was wet and her eyes were red. “Its all over, my darling,” I said. “I’m never going to do that again. Have you got it out of your system, now? Demon excised?”

Joan smiled and said, “Yes, my darling. I’ve got it well and truly out of my system. All thanks to you! I’ll always be grateful to you for that. But, yes, it won’t be necessary to do it again. Ever!”

The cream was well massaged in by this time, and the skin drying nicely. I bent and kissed the red areas of her breasts.

So I took my clothes off and lay over her. Joan opened her legs and I entered her. Ever so careful not to put any weight on her ravaged body we made long and gentle love.

An hour later Joan’s body relaxed and she drifted off into sleep. I joined her.